The Girl with the Knives
by themaskedgoddess
Summary: /Stupid Glimmer and her perfect blonde hair and her perfect angel face and her perfect blue eyes and her perfect self, thought Clove as she sharpened her knives by the stream they found. Cato, you dumbfuck./ Rated T for cussing.
1. The Girl with the Knives

__I don't even know if this is under the right genre. Oh well.

I love Clato so much, I finally wrote a fanfic after months. Haha yay.

**Disclaimer:** Duh.

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><p><em>Stupid Glimmer and her perfect blonde hair and her perfect angel face and her perfect blue eyes and her perfect self, <em>thought Clove as she sharpened her knives by the stream they found.

Glimmer was flirting with Cato, as usual. And Cato was responding, as usual. Marvel was pathetic with that sad look on his face as he gazed longingly at Glimmer. And District 12 boy was being the sad little puppy he was.

_Cato, you dumbfuck._

She wished she could run away. She was lithe and fast on her feet. There was no doubt that she could outrun the other Careers. But she doesn't. Not just yet. She needed to take advantage of the protection and opportunities this little alliance gave her. And Cat- no, that was the only reason. Taking advantage. That was the only reason, Clove assured herself.

"Those knifes look pretty sharp to me," says Cato.

Clove looked at him with cool indifference, "Hm."

And she was back to sharpening them again. Not that they needed anymore sharpening. She just didn't need to see Glimmer batting her eyelashes and pouting at Cato.

She hated Glimmer. _Loathed _her. Cato had been her partner, her ally, and now look what he was doing? Whoring it up with the ditz! Unbelievable.

Clove hadn't been paying much attention to what she was doing, so she didn't notice that she had tried to see how sharp her knives were. By sliding her right forefinger across the blade. It only occurred to her that this had happened when she saw the ruby red line across her pale finger.

"Shit."

Apparently, Cato heard her.

"Why? What is it?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"Nothing," she had said. Perhaps a little too quick.

"Clove-"

"Go away, Cato." She stood up, put the knives back into her jacket pockets and started walking away.

But not before Cato grabbed her right arm.

She hoped he wouldn't see. So she fisted her right hand in an attempt to hide her finger. It did not hurt anyway. Why let anyone know?

"Is that blood?"

But of course, that wish was in vain.

The blood from her cut was flowing down her hand and down her forearm as Cato pulled her hand to his face for inspection. "What the fuck is this?" he growled.

"Nothing, I told you," she said carelessly. "It doesn't even hurt."

"Why did you do this, Clove?"

"It was an accident. Now, fuck off, Cato," she snarled and attempted to break his hold on her.

But of course, it didn't work. Cato was too strong. His grip just tightened.

"Don't curse at me when I'm just trying to be helpful," he glared at her.

She scoffed. "I don't need your help."

"Why are you like this, Clove? Why won't you accept my help?"

"Because. I. Don't. Need. It. Never have. Never will." She smirked.

"Fine, be that way." He finally let go of her wrist.

She stalked away in one direction while he walked the opposite way. She sat on a rock and he sat back down with Glimmer.

"What was that about?" Glimmer asked in her insanely high-pitched voice. Clove's was so much different. He thinks he likes Clove's better.

He shook his head to clear away any thoughts about girls. This was the Hunger Games, for Pete's sake. He had to be thinking of his next kill, not cold, emotionless and distant or pretty, blonde and petite girls. "Nothing, nothing."

The rest of the evening went like that.

Clove on that rock, sharpening her knives. Again.

Marvel being pathetic.

District 12 boy being the lost puppy he is.

And Glimmer and Cato sitting beside each other, flirting. Except this time, Cato wasn't even listening to or looking at Glimmer anymore. Instead, he watched the Girl with the Knives. She fascinated him, really. She was much more interesting to look at or be with than anyone in this little alliance of them.

Not that he'd tell her.

Or even admit that out loud to any living soul.

Nope.

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><p>Yeah okay, that sucked, didn't it? Sorry to disappoint guys haha.<p>

Review for much needed creative criticism?


	2. Shivers

Sooo, I suddenly got an idea of how to continue this story, and well, I didn't want to let go of it so I wrote this!

I truly hope you enjoy. (Even if it sucks.)

**Disclaimer: **Seriously?

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><p>It was night time, and it was freezing. And because no one would dare the Careers all together, they built a bonfire to keep themselves warm.<p>

Glimmer and Cato were together, as usual. Clove distanced herself from the group, holding her jacket tighter around her and slept in a fetal position. Marvel was a good five feet away from the couple and still had a frown on his sleeping face. Peeta, meanwhile, slept closest to the fire. Clove swore it was because it reminded him of _Katniss_.

_Psh, only weaklings are made fools by love, _Clove thought.

She tried sleeping about an hour ago but she couldn't. It was too cold and her jacket was the only thing giving her warmth. It wasn't enough. She was shivering and she couldn't do anything about it. Clove had fallen asleep after half an hour of figuring out how to keep herself warm and failing to.

Cato, with Glimmer holding on to his left arm, was the only one who had not fallen asleep in their little elite group. He was thinking of how when he won, he'd have all the glory and fame and the whole of Panem would know about him. _District 2, strong, brutal, merciless. _He smirked, yes, that would be nice.

But his thoughts were cut off by a small cough from his right side.

Naturally, he looked over there and saw a small figure shivering in the cold. _Clove? _

_Ah, well, leave her be. She said she didn't need any help anyway, _he thought at first.

But something inside of him wouldn't let her just freeze, so he shook Glimmer away and walked over to check on Clove.

She was shivering badly. And her breaths came out in puffs in her feeble attempt to warm herself even while asleep. Her jacket did not do much help, so he kneeled down beside her and took his jacket off to put it over her. But when he had moved her into a better sleeping position, he became aware of how hot her skin felt. _Maybe I'm just cold, _he shrugged. But he placed the back of his hand on her neck to double check anyway. He wasn't cold. It was Clove who was hot. Clove was _terribly sick. _

"What the fuck?" he said. How did this happen?

He looked from her deathly pale face down to her curled body. _How?_

And then he remembered the cut on her finger. It must've gotten infected.

_Clove, you idiot. And you said you didn't need any help. _He wanted to smack her for being so careless, but she was shivering like never before and her body was racking with coughs and she had never looked so ill in her lifetime that all Cato wanted to do was hug her and share his warmth. But Cato couldn't hug her. He reminded himself that they were still in the Games and that they were shown on National Television.

He had no idea of what to do with Clove when the parachute floated down to him.

He immediately took it, read the card (_Apply gel to all cuts. Drink liquid when deathly ill.) _and opened the canister.

He gently placed her head on his thigh and put a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to calm down her shivering.

It must've worked for she lay still for the next few minutes. He put some gel on his fingertip and carefully placed it on her cut. It was then that he had noticed that she had a lot more cuts on her face. He healed all of those.

Why was he doing all of this? He asked himself. He figured that it was because Clove was from the same district as he was, and he was still her partner after all. Partners looked out for each other, right? At least that's what he told himself.

Suddenly, she was shaking again. Even more vigorously than before. And Cato was scared, but Cato was never supposed to be scared wasn't he? So let's just say Cato lost his cool. He held her shoulders in an attempt to keep her still, but Clove just coughed harder. She looked like she had trouble even breathing. She put her hand to her chest, pounding it, and then lay limp.

"Clove!" Cato yelled.

Thankfully, none of his comrades woke up. Not even Clove.

He looked at her chest to check if she was still breathing.

She was.

_Clove, you fucking bitch! You scared me half to my fucking death. Don't ever fucking do this again, okay?_ He wanted to scream at her for terrifying him, but he couldn't.

She had never looked so vulnerable and weak. Two traits that don't fit nicely with Clove. She was strong, stealthy, fast and lithe. She was all those and none of the weak stuff. She never was. So it petrified him to see her suddenly so... vulnerable and weak.

He placed her head on his thigh again and opened her mouth to pour the liquid. He watched her choke on it a bit and he swore that if she had another episode, he would kill her for terrifying him again. Even if she didn't mean it. She swallowed the medicine, eventually.

It must've worked well because the color was coming back to her and she wasn't shivering so much anymore. Still, he placed his jacket over her. Just in case the shivers came back. It was almost dawn so he went back beside Glimmer and tried to catch a few more snoozes before they had to be up and running again.

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><p>CLATO FOR LIFE, OKAY? Haha.<p>

Reviews for creative criticism?


	3. Tracker Jackers

Okay, so this is not my best work. And I am incredibly sorry for that. I really had no idea how to continue this fanfic, so yeah.

**Disclaimer: **Honestly?

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><p>Clove woke up to Glimmer's startled scream.<p>

She sat up, rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and saw her. _Fuck, tracker jackers. _

_No, wait! Fuck! Glimmer was my kill! Fucking shit! I wanted to make her die a slow horrible painful oh-so-painful death. Fuck you, tracker jackers! Glimmer was mine to fucking kill._

She had been cursing at the tracker jackers too much and her mind was too filled with hate to notice that after they're finished with Glimmer, she was the next target.

Cato had run away in a panic. So had Marvel and the District 12 boy. She looked up to see the District 11 and 12 girls with victorious smiles on their face. _So they'd been the ones, huh?_

The buzz of the tracker jackers dragged her back to reality. They were done with Glimmer. They were coming for _her. _She wanted to run, but she couldn't. Clove felt like she was stuck to the forest floor. Her mind was telling her to _fucking get out of there, _but her body was not responding. At all.

_So this is how I die, huh? Pity that it's the same cause as Glimmer's death. _She had decided on not to scream when the tracker jackers came for her, unlike Glimmer's panicked shrieks. This would be her last show of defiance, her last stand. She would not scream.

Cato interrupted Clove's planning of her death as he screamed her name. "Clove!"

Not a second later, she was pulled upright by a strong and calloused hand. It was the same hand that gripped her small one and led her away from the deadly poison of the tracker jacker. They ran and ran and ran. Neither ever looked back.

It was only when they collapsed in a heap on the forest ground from the exhaustion that Clove noticed she was clutching another jacket. _District 2, _it read.

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><p>Okay, okay, I get it. It <em>sucks. <em>I am very sorry to disappoint. Again.

Gah. Creative criticism is very much welcome!


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